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Chapter 33 - The Double Crosser (CF)
Tubba roared a battle cry and fell on the Koopas in the courtyard of the Castle he had spent the first fourteen years of life inside. He could hear Aaron’s sword clinking against the various Koopas who dared get in his way, he could hear the strangled cries of their enemies as Shazam’s rocks knocked them to the floor, he could see Xavier and Gamma working a team, with the Star Kid flying above the eyeline of the enemy, distracting them, before the Bandit came in with a hearty sock with a fist. The battle had gone poorly from the moment he had sent the second group away to the Mushroom Kingdom to ask for air support. The reinforcements, the Koopan airships, had arrived with the Clubbas still at the base of the felled Place of the Unruly and the Mushroom support an hour or two away - if it was to ever come. The Clubbas couldn’t wait to engage the Koopas in battle anymore. The Koopan airships had reinforced the Koopas enough that they could dictate the terms of when the battle began, forcing Tubba to lead the Clubban forces to engage the Koopas in the Clubba Castle courtyard, hoping that the Mushroom airships came sooner rather than later. As luck would have it, the Mushroom airships arrived before the Clubbas were too overwhelmed, returning the battle to a more even keel. It filled Tubba’s heart with warmth to see Bubba and Paralus’ mother, Mira, fighting with as much intensity on his side as every other Clubba standing next to her. But battles were bloody - Tubba winced with every Clubba that was unlucky enough to meet a Koopan claw or sword, their friends immediately dropping to help the wounded, but Tubba knew that some Clubbas would not return home from this battle. The previous Battle of Gusty Gulch had been deathless, with neither a casualty on the Clubban or Koopan sides. The Second Battle of Gusty Gulch would not be as lucky. His friends looked intact, which filled Tubba with at least some comfort. Strategy was virtually non-existent in the battle, everywhere one looked, Koopas and Clubbas were sparring or battling, club meeting sword, fist meeting scales, anger meeting fury. Tubba had hoped to storm the Castle with a skewer formation, blasting into the main entrance of the Castle, but he knew that that was no longer possible with the sheer chaos that had descended. It was the sheer chaos that left Tubba unsuspecting to Ludwig’s trump card. As he sparred with a Fire Brother, dodging the pyromaniac’s balls of flame as they were hurled toward him, scorching and blackening the sand below, looking to get close enough to deliver a hearty blow with the ParaClubban club, which was reacting quite well with Tubba in battle, having the heaviness of Karubba’s club, as well as the finesse of his first club. Satisfaction surged through him as he battled according to his plan, dancing and pirouetting his way closer to the Fire Brother, before he spun on the spot and drilled the Fire Brother right in his padded ribs, sending him head over heels, landing heavily in the sand a few feet away. Before Tubba could pause to savour his victory, he felt a massive lump barrel into him, and his vision was obscured by the bright orange of scales. “Paralus!” Tubba snarled, believing he knew who was attacking him. He’d recognize those cold black eyes anywhere. Somersaulting over to displace the weight of his assailant, he kicked with his legs to force whoever it was off of him. It was only when he regained his feet that he realized miniscule differences between the Clubba attacking him and Paralus. This Clubba was taller than Paralus, leaner than Paralus, giving him a very gangly air for a Clubba. Scars laced across his face, with brighter orange scales being interrupted with dark orange, dull scales, some as thin as a claw-scratch, others as big as Tubba’s large red fist. The cold black eyes were the same as Paralus’, but Paralus’ eyes always sparkled with genuine care, not the vicious malice burning deep in the eyes of this Clubba. It was like looking at a mix of Bubba and Paralus, the white hair grown haphazardly and in an unkempt mess on top of his head. “You’ll pay, Tubba,” the Clubba rasped, his voice sounding blackened and burned. “I’ve waited sixteen years for this moment,” the sounds of battle around them began to disappear as Tubba’s blood began to pound. “Bubba shall not not be avenged,” the Clubba pointed his club at Tubba, who gripped his own very tightly. “This is a vengeance festering for sixteen years. You’ve never known me, but my life has been dedicated to making you pay. I am Mubba Clubbith.” The second brother of the three, the one Paralus had said had been lost for years. The thought of Paralus only pepped Tubba up, rather than filling him with guilt. Paralus didn’t want the cycle of vengeance to continue - if Tubba was doing this for his friend, he knew that he was right. Mubba was picking a fight that Tubba could engage in without any untoward impact on his conscience. “I’m right here,” Tubba goaded Bubba’s middle brother, “you’re steps away from the vengeance you so crave. Come on, Bubba’s shadow, show me what you’ve got. I never got to engage Bubba in a proper fight, but I’ll give you the message I would’ve given him.” Tubba saw Mubba’s feet tense on the dusty sands, and was already swinging the ParaClubban - no, his - club in defence, hearing the satisfying crunch as the two heads of the clubs collided with Mubba’s advance. “You destroyed my life!” Mubba snarled as he swung wildly at Tubba, who parried and blocked with relative ease. Mubba was possessed with a bent rage, a rage that Tubba had himself experienced before. It destroyed any sense of technique, temperament, skill that you had ever been taught, replacing it with a battering ram of rage that was designed to pile drive through the calculated defence of the other Clubba. It was imperative that Tubba focused on defence - Mubba could not keep this furious rage up for long. Mubba’s strokes became tired and sloppy after a few minutes of Tubba’s resolute defending, the orange Clubba’s frustration evident in the harder and faster swings he kept attempting. With one calculated lash of his club, Tubba seized his opening and connected Mubba in the gut, sending the Clubba flying backwards, just like the Fire Brother before him. “Don’t make me do this, Mubba,” Tubba attempted to reason with the seething, ragged Clubba. “Fight for the Clubbas. Don’t fight alongside the Koopas. Fight with your mother, fight with your brother. The brother who’s still alive.” Tubba knew it was tactless, but if he was to get through to Mubba, he had to make the grief-stricken and vengeance-driven Clubba understand that Bubba was dead. Defeating and possibly killing Tubba wouldn’t bring Bubba back. “Do you want to give up your family for nothing but the ghost of your brother?” The dark black eyes flashed with doubt for a second, but it was immediately crushed down by hatred again. The hot sun beat down on both of them, panting and tired from their first confrontation, but the determination burning in Tubba sapped none of his energy. He could fight as long as Mubba could. Once again, Mubba’s feet tensed on the red soils of Gusty Gulch, forcing Tubba to bring his own club in a preemptive defensive swing. A plume of fire erupted in front of Tubba’s nostrils, blasting forward and engulfing his red hands that held the club, scalding him and making him drop his club as immense agony seared through him, as if his hands were being vaporized from existence. Tubba staggered as the head of the club landed onto his right foot, making him stagger and lose his balance, collapsing onto the sands shell-first like an upended turtle. Tubba barely had time to register what had happened when Mubba, his nostrils emitting two plumes of smoke, was on top of him, his club tearing Tubba’s blood-red scales out and throwing them onto the matching sands. Firebreath Koopas could breathe fire. Mubba Clubbith could too. The revelation shocked Tubba, his brain was whirling too much to even attempt a feeble resistance to Mubba’s inevitable destruction of him. “No!” Another orange shape flew through the air and barrelled Mubba off of Tubba, causing them both to land heavily a few steps away, throwing sand up as they landed. Dusting sand out of his hair, his club braced in his right hand and distress evident in his eyes, was Paralus, having knocked his brother to the ground. “Mubba, what are you doing?” “What are you doing, Paralus?” Paralus’ elder brother lay on the sand, making no attempt to regain his feet just yet. “I had him. This would be Bubba’s revenge.” Tubba pushed himself up to his feet, his hands feeling as if they were still burning, burned and blackened scales on his fingers sending pain surging through him. Thankfully, it appeared that the scales had shielded him from short-term damage, for he could grab his club without too much difficulty. “This moment, and our family would feel avenged.” “No, it wouldn’t.” Paralus said bluntly, turning his shell to Tubba, so Tubba could no longer make out his expression. “Our mother and I are fighting on Tubba’s side. You’re betraying us all by fighting alone, out of nothing but hate for Tubba, and no greater cause.” Mubba pushed himself to his feet, leering over his younger brother with burning eyes. “You never understood what Bubba’s death meant to us all. I don’t know you convinced our mother, but you’ve always been desensitized to know that your brother was killed long before your time,” Mubba’s burning eyes flitted to Tubba, who met them confidently. “You stand by side, and not by mine? I’m not the one fighting for nothing - I fight for Ludwig von Koopa, and he’s graciously given me the chance to finish Tubba off. She knows.” Mubba pointed his orange index finger over Tubba’s head, causing Tubba to spin around and locate the subject of the point: his light blue half-sister. “Clubbette?” Paralus spun, too, and Tubba could make out his expression was more distressed than before. “You knew that Mubba was here? You knew I was searching for my family, you knew that it meant nothing more to me than to find my family again... and you double crossed me?” Paralus sounded broken, as if he couldn’t believe this had happened. Tubba couldn’t suppress a wry smile. He knew this was going to happen. Tubba’s half-sister, standing a few paces away with a Clubba Tubba recognized to be the mother of both Mubba and Paralus, was scratching the scales below her head with nervousness, put her hands up as Paralus’ expression turned to anger. “No, Paralus!” Clubbette denied immediately, before looking at the ground. “I mean, yes, Paralus, I knew Mubba was alive and that Ludwig had put him up to defeating Tubba in battle... but that was before!” Paralus didn’t bother replying to Clubbette, turning away and back to Mubba, his legs visibly shaking. “And you’ve double crossed us too, Mubba? You said you hated the Koopas because they killed our father. But here you are, allying with Ludwig.” Paralus’ voice was tight, as if he couldn’t take more betrayal. “I hate Tubba much more than I hate the Koopas.” Mubba said matter-of-factly. “It’s you who’s betrayed us all, you disgrace to the Clubbiths!” Tubba opened his mouth to shout out a warning, but Paralus was a step ahead, sticking his club in the path of Mubba’s attempt to attack his younger brother. The two Clubbas, despite a scream of protest from their mother standing just a few steps away, began to battle with an intensity that Tubba had seen only between sworn enemies, much less two brothers who had grown up together. "MUBBA, STOP!” Paralus screamed, swinging his club with a force Tubba thought could not be possible. Mubba could do nothing about it, the club connecting just above his knees, forcing Mubba to stagger and fall onto them. Paralus was looming above him, shouting out his next words with contempt: “What have you become, Mubba!? Rather, what were you in the first place!? Look at our mother, Mubba! If she can forgive Tubba and fight alongside the Clubbas, why can’t you? If I’m a disgrace to the Clubbiths, you’re a disgrace to all the Clubbas who have ever lived! Do you think our mother deserves to see us fighting like this!?” For the first time, Mubba’s eyes showed a clear emotion other than hatred as he looked past Paralus to their mother. “No,” he said grudgingly, regret beginning to become evident. He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if he couldn’t make sense of himself. “I can’t ally with Tubba, I can’t. He’s been the cause of everything that’s gone wrong to us. Right?” Mubba opened his eyes, doubt flashing in them again. “No.” Paralus said. “He regrets it, he’d do anything to take it back, it was his fault. But not everything bad to us has been Tubba’s fault.” Paralus stuck out a hand, offering to pick his brother up off the sands. Mubba took it, letting Paralus lift him off up the ground. “Brothers shouldn’t fight.” Paralus finished, recognizing that Mubba was done with his cocoon of hatred. “That’s right,” Tubba murmured, thrown back to the Star Shrine. “Brothers shouldn’t fight,” he searched in his memory for that ephemeral moment with his mother, the mother he had never known, and thought of his own, horrible relationship with much more than his brother - his twin. “How refreshingly sentimental,” a snide voice broke in. “But sometimes, there’s not really another option, is there. Some brothers will always fight.” Tubba knew the voice, but that didn’t stop him from seeking it out, his heart leaping with elation but his brain crushing it down with rage. He knew before he set eyes on the teal Clubba that he was about to come face to face with his twin.